


Your Move

by RetroactiveCon



Series: The Scars Won't Be Tough to Erase [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “Seventeen and most of the way through a double major in physics and mechanical engineering. You’re impressive, Mr. Rathaway.”Hartley looks like a small child at Christmas. Eobard allows himself a smile, although he changes it so that it looks far kinder than the pleased smirk he would like to make. This will be easier than he anticipated. When he’d first located the brilliant young Hartley Rathaway, one of the twenty-first century’s finest scientific minds, he hadn’t envisioned him to be quite so susceptible to flattery.
Relationships: Hartley Rathaway/Harrison Wells | Eobard Thawne
Series: The Scars Won't Be Tough to Erase [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558543
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Your Move

Harrison studies the boy hunched over a physics book. It’s not one of the texts taught by the school’s professors—he’d checked on the curricula of the science classes, and none of them are that advanced. “Hartley Rathaway?”

The boy sits bolt upright as though he’s a puppet and Harrison has just given his strings a hearty tug. His eyes widen with something verging on fear—he thinks he’s been caught out. Harrison slides into the chair opposite him and folds his hands on the table. “That is your name, correct?”

“Yes.” Hartley carefully marks his place with a torn paper bookmark. He tucks the book away reverently despite how his hands shake. “You’re Dr. Harrison Wells. I’ve followed your work. Your Grand Unified Theory—it’s promising, although untested.”

Harrison smiles. Wells—the original Wells—was a collaborative worker. He had allowed himself to be drawn into the quest for the Grand Unified Theory, one brilliant hypothesis that would unite the three forces that act on particles, alongside a group of researchers from multiple fields. His colleagues, including the brilliant Dr. Tina McGee, had been disappointed when the ‘new’ Dr. Wells had lost interest. “I’m surprised someone so young has an opinion on it. You’re…eighteen, if I had to guess?”

Hartley straightens his shoulders proudly. “Seventeen, actually,” he pronounces.

Harrison knew that, of course, but he thought he would give the boy a chance to preen. He knows, too, that Hartley finished boarding school at the tender age of fifteen, and that at sixteen, after a year of college, he came out to his parents as gay. He’s spent the last year living on the streets, although one would hardly know it to look at him. “Seventeen and most of the way through a double major in physics and mechanical engineering. You’re impressive, Mr. Rathaway.”

Hartley looks like a small child at Christmas. Harrison allows himself a smile, although he changes it so that it looks far kinder than the pleased smirk he would like to make. This will be easier than he anticipated. When he’d first located the brilliant young Hartley Rathaway, one of the twenty-first century’s finest scientific minds, he hadn’t envisioned him to be quite so susceptible to flattery. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you. STAR Labs partners with universities across the country for internship programs—I thought you would have heard.”

Hartley’s mouth drops open. “You…you’re here to offer me a job?” His voice trembles minutely, disbelief and desperation warring around the edges of his words. No doubt he would say yes even if Harrison offered him a job sweeping the floors. Between his obvious fascination with STAR Labs and his dire financial situation, there’s no way he can say no.

“I’m here to evaluate you.” Harrison knows Hartley has the right mind for the job—his work speaks for itself, even hundreds of years in the future. He had been concerned that Hartley might be too intractable to become just another piece of his plan, but those concerns are fading more with every word out of Hartley’s mouth. Still, he would like to be sure. It won’t be a difficult task to endear himself to the boy, as desperate for approval as he seems. With an hour’s work, he’ll be a willing pawn. “You may be just what I need, but you’ll have to prove it to me.”

“Anything, sir,” Hartley blurts. “I can show you my work…”

“No.” Hartley winces as though Harrison has struck him. That’s interesting, and could be a problem—he’s either heard ‘no’ too often or not enough, and has come to take it personally. It’s not an insurmountable issue; supposing Harrison can’t lessen that reaction, he can work around it. “The only thing your schoolwork will show me is that you do well when given time to develop your ideas. I need to see whether you can think quickly in the moment.”

“What do you have in mind?” Hartley eyes him intently, his expression just shy of arrogant. He craves a challenge—that’s good. As for that arrogance, Harrison will strip it away from him in time.

“Well,” Harrison says, “I thought you might be amenable to a game of chess.”

Five minutes later, they’ve set up Harrison's well-loved chessboard on the library table. When Harrison raises concerns about playing in the library, Hartley scoffs, “This room is for studying with a group, we don’t have to be silent.” That isn’t his reason for asking—he’s worried about the possibility, however slim, that someone might notice that his intentions are less than pure-hearted. He can’t very well say that to Hartley, so he helps arrange pieces on the chessboard.

“Your move,” he says, gesturing at the rows of white pieces in front of Hartley.

Hartley immediately moves the pawn in front of his queen two spaces forward. It’s a predictable move that gives Harrison plenty of options for a response. He chooses the one he doubts Hartley expects, and moves the pawn in front of his king forward one space.

“The Pirc Defense?” Hartley says derisively, moving his knight. Harrison had hoped he would move another pawn, but Hartley appears to want to set up the classic Italian Game. He has no intention of allowing that. “Dozens of choices, and you went with the most passive?”

“Not passive.” Harrison moves his knight. “Subtle. A distinction I hope you’ll come to appreciate.”

Indeed Hartley does, although he puts up a magnificent fight. He’s as brash in his plays as he is in his words, and because of this he stumbles into not one but two discovered attacks. Each time, Harrison sets the piece aside with a gentle _click_ , just loud enough to reinforce his point.

“You’re not thinking as far ahead as you should,” Harrison says. Hartley glares at him. He looks almost nervous, as though he thinks his poor showing might jeopardize the opportunity Harrison has presented him. In reality, it’s reassuring. It shows that Hartley, while bold and clever in the short term, lacks the foresight to understand Harrison's plan for the particle accelerator. “You’re planning your own moves without anticipating mine.”

Hartley’s eyes narrow. Ah, he’s spotted the path Harrison has left open for him. Given his previous plays, Harrison doubts he’ll see the trap set for him. “Check,” he says victoriously, sliding his rook into position. He looks gleeful, as though he’s proving Harrison wrong. In fact, he’s just proven him right.

“Checkmate,” Harrison corrects, placing his queen in front of Hartley’s trapped king. He taps his queen. “You would have done better to eliminate her.”

Hartley draws in a sharp breath that sounds like the beginning of a sob. Darling boy—he’s truly terrified of failure. Oh, the ways Harrison could use that fear. “Let me play again,” he insists, his voice sharp to hide the underlying desperation. “I can do better. I will do better.”

“Hartley.” On impulse, Harrison reaches out and cups a hand against Hartley’s pale cheek. He leans into the touch with a hastily-stifled sigh, his eyes drifting out of focus. He’s as starved for a gentle touch as he is for a kind word. This is almost too easy. “You think you’ve disappointed me?”

Hartley makes a soft sound of agreement. By now, he’s realized how pathetic he looks leaning into Harrison's touch like a needy puppy, and he’s half-drawn back. Sweeter yet is the way he lists toward Harrison's palm even when he’s broken contact.

“On the contrary.” Harrison smiles. “You’re hired.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first work on Archive of Our Own, so I was a little nervous about posting. You can come yell at me about fandom things on Tumblr at [achangeinpriorities](https://achangeinpriorities.tumblr.com/).


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